


the body electric

by Anonymous



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Confessions, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Interrogation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Secret Identity, Sensation Play, Tickling, Vaginal Sex, devil in disguise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Karen discovers a new exciting way to push Matt’s masochism buttons.





	the body electric

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago but was too embarrassed to post it… Thus, anonymous. I hope at least one other person enjoys my weird kinks.
> 
> Consensual masochism in the sense of: plenty opportunities to use safeword, not used. Still could be disturbing to some people. 
> 
> Why Karen? Idk, it just worked. Under that sweet-and-innocent veneer, she is a delightfully frightening woman.
> 
> ("Devil in disguise" for bingo-- referring to Karen; her devilish side comes out in this fic. If there's a way to claim anonymous works for bingo, probably not, hmm I didn't think this one through)

Karen is good at knots. Matt keeps learning new things about her. She tightens the scarf holding his wrists to the headboard, while he listens to her hot, fast breath above him.

She sits back on her heels when she’s done. He can hear her elevated pulse, feel her heat, smell other reactions in her body as she looks him over. He’s half naked, on his back, tied up. “You look really good like this,” she says, and he can hear her grin. Her voice sounds shy but there is an edge underneath it, something smoldering and aggressive. His cock twitches in his boxers.

“Glad to hear it,” Matt answers with a smirk, and notices something reciprocal in his own voice: he’s aiming for seductive and self-assured, but there’s trepidation coming through. He’s in her hands now.

“So many scars,” Karen murmurs, her voice going darker, as she traces one with her fingers. It makes him catch his breath. He hears her _tsk_ and shake her head. She bends down to kiss him, slow and gentle, but he senses her tension. She sits up again and sighs.

“You’re not an alcoholic.”

The excuse Foggy made up for him, to explain the bruises and injuries. To keep her from the truth. Matt presses his lips together, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just want to know…”

“Karen. This isn’t a good time for this conversation.”

“Maybe it is,” she counters, the smoldering note coming back into her voice. She swings a leg over him to straddle him, presses her body down on his and kisses him again, deeper, wetter. Her hands press into his chest. Her hair brushing against his neck and face feel delicious. He shivers.

“I have some … Tools I like to play with,” she tells him, sitting up. “You know, to create interesting sensations… Would you be into that?”

“Sure,” Matt says, smiling, shrugging as best he can while restrained this way. “This is not your first time tying someone up, is it?” he teases her, and she laughs like she’s been caught.

“Are you surprised?” She gets up off him.

“Can’t really say I am, no.”

“Mm. Good, I think?” He can hear her smile. She has taken a box out of a drawer in her nightstand, opens it. Matt picks up sounds of different materials moving against each other: leather, plastic, softer things. This could be something of a new road he’s going down in terms of kink. Elektra wasn’t much into gadgets; her own hands sufficed for fighting, for choking. For penetrating him.

“Remember your safeword, just in case,” Karen says, all matter-of-fact and responsible, as if the very prospect of having a safeword, of maybe having to use it, doesn’t turn him on. Elektra was not much for safewords, either. They were young and stupid.

He thinks about getting smacked with something like a riding crop. He thinks about nipple clamps. He’s very flushed, very hard all of a sudden, and Karen notices.

“You excited? I’ve got a lot of things in this box.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Matt breathes, still playing it cool as much as possible.

“Let’s start easy,” she says, and pulls out something light, too quiet for him to identify. She climbs back on top of him. Her breath causes something soft to flutter against itself. Then it’s stroking his face, his jaw: a feather. “Oh,” says Matt, involuntarily. Its spine is stiff, the end of it soft and flexible. She must have no idea how magnified the soft sensations are on his skin, each barb perceptible. She moves it down to his neck, and he can’t help groaning, stretching his chin up to get more of it.

“Hmm, you’re very sensitive, aren’t you,” Karen murmurs.

“Maybe a little,” Matt says quietly, and all the cool is gone from his voice now. He gasps as the feather traces his collarbone, shifting under her. Then, another one touches him on the other side of his chest: she’s got one in each hand. She sweeps them in tandem up his exposed triceps, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. He can’t help pulling at the bonds around his wrists, automatically trying to escape the intensity of it. He realizes he is trying to suppress a grin.

“Look at you, wow,” Karen says wonderingly, chuckling. She’s tracing the tips of the feathers up and down his arms. Such soft, light touches, but Matt’s nerve endings are screaming at him, and his brain doesn’t know how to handle it. Karen pulls the feathers back after a few seconds, and he tries to catch his breath.

“That’s, um… That’s really intense,” Matt says. He’s a little terrified she’ll continue, and also wants her to, more than anything.

“I was planning to move on to harsher things, but this might just be too fun,” Karen says. Her voice has that hard note again, naked arousal, dominance. Matt knows then he is at her mercy.

Her hands descend again, and he can sense where they’re going but still jumps, crying out, when the feathers brush his armpits. “Karen, God!” He manages, before she starts moving the feathers in circles, up and down, back and forth, and he finds himself laughing uncontrollably. She’d tied his ankles to the foot of the bed as well, and she’s sitting on his thighs, pinning him; he squirms, but there is not much he can do but strain against the bonds and buck his hips into her.

After a minute, Karen lets up on him, sitting back, and it still takes a second or two for Matt to stop laughing. He’s panting, his whole body filled with heat. Karen is laughing, too, but in an easy, lazy way.

“Jeez, you’re amazingly ticklish,” she says, sounding way too pleased.

“…I guess?” Matt admits, warily. Past girlfriends usually learned fast they’d end up with a bloody nose if they touched him the wrong way, his reflexes and training kicking in beyond his control. He always apologized profusely and brought them damp washcloths, but he could tell it freaked them all out. (All of them except Elektra, of course, for whom a bloody nose was foreplay.) In college, Foggy had engaged him in drunken wrestling sessions more than once, and he’d kept his training in check, somehow. But these feathers, wielded so expertly by Karen, made sensations that seemed leagues more powerful and unbearable than much firmer touches. He guessed it was just another quirk of his freaky nervous system.

Then Karen’s voice gets really evil. “I bet I can make you tell me where all the scars come from,” she all but whispers.

Matt feels his heart beat pick up, sweat breaking out on his face. He shakes his head. “Karen, I—“ he’s cut off by the feathers making quick, wiggly movements across his ribs, all words he might have formed lost in helpless giggling. She moves to his stomach, the feathers skipping over the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Matt’s laughter jumps up in pitch, and his muscles contract and spasm. He tries desperately not to pull so hard on the ties around his wrists that he’ll break them. A feather traces his navel, slips inside, and he’s begging, the words _stop_ and _please_ coming from him unbidden, broken by laughter.

Karen slows down a little. “Use your safeword,” she says, “if you want me to stop. Otherwise, I’m gonna do what I want to you.”

She waits. He shakes his head.

“Okay,” she says, “We’re just getting started, honey.” How cool and collected she sounds just makes it more menacing, and he marvels at her sadistic streak in some distant, quiet corner of his mind while his body utterly freaks out at the feathers sweeping up and down his sides in quick motions. He’s too far out of his head to even be embarrassed at how loud he’s being, or worry about the neighbors. Karen returns her ministrations to his lower abdomen, while he writhes, covered in sweat.

At last she pauses again, giving him another break. A whimper comes out of his throat. “Do you want to tell me anything, Matt?” Karen asks, patiently.

Through his adrenaline and heat and arousal, Matt can’t make sense of his thoughts. She’s dominating him, mind and body, more thoroughly than Elektra even ever did, and all by barely touching him. It’s overwhelming, alarming, and one of the hottest things that has ever happened to him. She is moving the situation past the merely playful and sexy by asking these questions, though - by demanding answers - and that alarms him more. Guilt has been choking him for weeks as they’ve become more intimate, and he knows it’s well past time to let her know who he is. And yet. The defiant side of him refuses to give in this way.

He smiles at her. “Absolutely not.”

“Alright, then,” Karen says calmly, and turns herself around, still sitting on his thighs but facing the other direction. Before Matt can react, she’s stroking the backs of his knees with the feathers.

“Shit!” Matt cries, and then he’s laughing again, at a loss for words, his face and chest burning hot. Karen spends minutes on his legs, switching up what she’s doing every few seconds so he can’t adjust to it. There is nowhere he can go; he lets his muscles go limp and helplessly takes in the sensations. Karen’s butt is painfully close to his cock, and her tickling and lack of touching him there are doubly unbearable.

She pauses again, waits. She doesn’t have to say anything. Matt does not give his safeword, and does not tell her anything about his scars. A twisted part of him wants to see how far she will go with this. The rest of him is screaming at that twisted part of him, knowing he’s doomed.

“You are a sucker for punishment,” Karen says, admiringly, and moves herself further down his legs – yes, he’s doomed. Matt bites his lip to keep in a litany of automatic pleading, controlling himself, because he wants it, even though he can’t take it. When the feathers touch the soles of his feet, though, he spits out multiple curse words, punctuated by peals of laughter he has no hope of quieting.

“Wow,” Karen breathes. “Mmm.” He can hear and smell how turned on she is. He knows she could torture him for hours and not get him off, while he has to smell her lust the whole time, taunting him with it, and his dick is throbbing at the thought of it. The feather slides in between his toes, and it’s electric. “I wonder,” she murmurs, and suddenly drops the feathers and scratches her fingernails lightly over the skin on his feet. Matt’s not even close to ready for it, and yowls, bucking off the bed. She goes on and on, while he laughs hysterically. It’s way too much, but he doesn’t want to use the safeword; he needs this, he craves being completely owned by her.

And he wants to tell her. He has wanted to tell her for a while.

“Okay, okayokayokay!” he chokes out finally, his voice humiliatingly shriek-y. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you about the scars!”

Karen stops her assault on his feet, but her fingertips are still touching him, though still, and he’s gotten to a point where even that is hard to take. He continues giggling back in his throat. “You will?” She sounds surprised.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you everything, Karen. I promise. As soon as…” He trails off. He knows he shouldn’t delay anymore, but when he starts telling her there will be so many questions, so much to explain to her, and he’s so turned on right now.

Karen seems to understand. “As soon as I take care of this?” She asks in a low voice, reaching behind her to slide her hand up his cock. Matt pulls in a shaky breath and nods.

She leans over to the nightstand again, and he hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Carefully, she turns herself around to face him, lifts the waistband of his boxers up around his erection, and pulls them down to his knees. Her breath is heavy; he can sense all the extra heat in her face and chest, and he knows from the smell how wet she is. She rips the condom wrapper with her teeth, and his cock twitches.

“You’re not going to untie me first?” Matt asks, with a half-smile, as she rolls the condom down his cock. He’s teasing her; he has no desire to be free while she fucks him.

“Hell, no,” Karen says, with glee. He laughs. He could get used to this. “Ready?” She asks him, and he nods.

She’s lowering herself on to him, using one hand to guide his dick into her, when he hears one of the feathers move on the bed, under her hand that she’s using to hold herself up. He hears her fingers close around it, and then he’s flooded by the sensation of her cunt around him, warm and pressing, and momentarily forgets about it.

She moves on him, and his head tilts back. “Oh god, Matt,” she says, her voice breathy and hot, and he bites his lip hard. “That was… Making you come apart like that, was…” Her internal muscles spasm around his dick.

“I know,” Matt pants. He uses his normal tricks to keep from coming: deep breathing, the attentional focus he learned from meditation.

“And to know that I still have you—under my power,” she pants. He strains at the ties around his wrists, his focus fracturing; he works hard to piece it back together.

Just when he has control back, ready to settle in and let her ride him for as long as she wants, she sticks the feather in his ear. His yelp dissolves into a high moan of pleasure when she twists it. He never knew his ears could be that erogenous, but he’s never had hundreds of soft feather protrusions stroking the skin inside there all at once.

“Jesus, Karen, I… I can’t believe how good that feels,” he manages, and she responds with a moan. Her other hand slides up his chest and fingers his nipple, and he makes a strangled noise, stomach muscles clenching.

“Yeah,” Karen says, a high pleading note in her voice. “Oh god. Come, Matt. Please, _come_.” Her fingers pinch down on his nipple, hard, and that’s all he needs. Sharp pleasure unleashes into him and he cries out, contracting, shoulders lifting off the mattress. Karen’s cry follows immediately, the feather falling away as she pushes on his chest with both hands, holding herself up. He feels her cunt clench on him and he gasps; it tightens so much that it’s only from her hips thrusting down deep that he stays inside. Her cries continue as she rides each pulse and aftershock out of him.

She rests on top of him, panting, the slide of both their sweat between them, skin to skin. Finally, she sits up and carefully unties his wrists. She takes each one and rubs them, kissing one of them. “You were so good, Matt,” she murmurs to him. Something warm and vulnerable opens up in him at those words.

She unties his ankles and massages them, too, and he moans contentedly. They curl up together on the bed then, Matt kicking his boxers the rest of the way off and then pressing himself into her back, spoon-wise.

Both of them slow their breathing. Matt could almost drop off to sleep right here. Almost.

“You going to keep your promise?” Karen asks, expectantly.

“Of course,” Matt says. He takes a breath. He begins. “When the accident happened, when I was nine, I didn’t just lose my sight. I gained … A lot of other things.”

Karen’s hand tightens on his arm, around her waist, and he goes on, finally letting her in on his secrets.


End file.
